A terrible love
by crims0npools
Summary: She lifts her dewy eyes to his face, studying the structure, his jaw lines so pronounced and sharp, his lips permanently plump and puckered, so ravishing. Hungry lips, that's what he had. She hates herself for seeing him this way..


Her breathings jagged and sharp whilst Her eyes dart everywhere but his face. Tears prick her ocean blue eyes as she desperately tries to suck them back up, it's not working. They start to fall, burning streams of water falling from those beautiful eyes, leaving trails of glistening tears behind. She sinks lower into the worn leather seats of his car, clawing her nails into the fabric until her knuckles turn a shade of White. He reaches over to her thigh, making the seats squeak

And bump as he leans, grasping her leg is the only form of comfort her can offer whilst speeding down the highway. But she takes it, she delicately places her blue varnished hand atop his, she's holding on so tightly, yet she feels nothing, she needs to be close to someone ::to him:: she needs to feel their ::his:: warmth. She can feel his hand shaking beneath hers and she continues her death grip. He turns his eyes away from the road, smiling at her. Not a bold, dazzling happy smile, but a sad, exhausted smile, a smile of relief. Relief that they were finally getting away. His own dried tears stained his rosy cheeks as he drove, still clutching her hand and thigh with one hand and driving with the other. He knew it wasn't safe to be speeding this fast down the highway, but it gave him a buzz. He needed to feel alive, he hadn't felt alive in so long. Neither of them had. The radio had remained untouched the whole ride. The journey so far consisted of Sam's crys, and Freddie trying his best to comfort her. Tear after tear flow freely from her glistening orbs of blue,

as she chokes back yet another throaty cry, all he can do at this very moment, is grip her tiny hand and pray every thing's going to be ok. ::we should never have left, we should never have left:: the mantra echoes around her empty head as she slides further into the seats, his strong hand leaving her own burning and tingling at his touch. She lifts her dewy eyes to his face, studying the structure, his jaw lines so pronounced and sharp, his lips permanently plump and puckered, so ravishing. Hungry lips, that's what he had. she Hates herself for seeing him this way, she bites the inside of her mouth, hard. Not enough to draw blood but enough that she squeals. The boy is utterly perfect. There are no scars nor blemishes gracing his perfect tanned skin, no dark bags beneath his eyes haunting him everytime he looks into the mirror. Every feature on his face is perfect, eyes so deep and memorizing. Brown pools of chocolate that contain flecks of gold when anger bubbles up from inside his strong, firm Chest. His nose contains no bumps or crookedness,He has an admiringly cute button nose, the perfect shape if there was such a thing. His dark auburn locks cling to his forehead, floppy and messy, not necessarily long, but not short either. And as far from the well kept hairstyle he had all them

Years ago. His lips where her favourite part. It wasn't just their appearance. An appearance that made you want to pounce and kiss them, till they where swollen and red, no, it was also what they could do. She was sure he slathered chapstick on them regularly, how else would they be so tentatively soft? And the way they fitted with her own. It made her head swim and butterflies erupt in her stomachs every time she came into contact with them. Not to mention the sparks of electricity that flowed through her veins. She also had a soft spot for two other unique qualities that graced his face,the first was his eyebrows. They always gave away what he was thinking, they knitted together in confusion, Furrowed in anger, and rose in surprise. She'd say he expressed more through them than his actual spoken words. And also his cheeks, for on his cheeks, everytime he smiled that crooked dazzling smile, if you looked close enough a small dimple would appear ,denting his olive skin. it was cute, it was a quirk, a Freddie Benson quirk.

Freddie Benson was one of The most loyal, caring and sensitive boys she'd ever known. But yet, he was running. Running from the one thing in life it's never acceptable to run from. Fatherhood. Freddie Benson, good mannered, sensible, responsible Freddie Benson was to be a dad. Sam remembers when he told her, it was late, cold, and typically for Seattle, it was raining.

Sprawled out on the couch, mouth wide open, Sam was sending snores into the air, it was a sure sign she was asleep, well, she had been until she was interrupted. A vivid light Erupted from her mobile, sending her heart into overdrive as it made her jump. Soon enough, buzzing vibrations joined the bright light as the phone continued to dance across her stained coffee table. Stretching, she groggily bent towards the table, yanking her phone to her ear, she

Silently cursed the caller.

"are you awake?" a voice asked,

"No Freddie, I'm skydiving" she deadpanned.

"sorry.." he whispered.

Silence filled the line. Sam had never heard him sound so small, he sounded sad, Hurt even.

"Freddie, what is it?" she asked, dulling the force of her tone.

"she's pregnant"

Her heart dropped, and she was sure she heard it crack.

"she's what? Freddie you've been dating three months.. How is she- what?"

I guess her kind, natured tone was forgotten.

"it just happened Sam, we just- I just- i don't know! We had sex and yeah.."

Sex and Fredward Benson. It made he feel sick, not only was he the one talking about it, but he'd actually done it. The nerd was the first to lose his v plates.

"Freddie are you sure? I mean, has she taken a test?"

"yeah, this evening" he whispered once again. "three of them.."

" Have you ever heard of a condom! Freddie I can't believe you!"

She was shouting now, head in hands as she shrieked into the phone. She was angry and upset. Angry because he'd been so stupid, and upset because she could feel the pain in his voice.

"Sam.."

His cracked voice interrupted her rant and she set down the phone, slumping into the couch she answered,

"what Freddie?"

"she wasn't you."

Sam felt Physically sick.

If she didn't move, she was going to hurl, she was going to hurl all over her mums best rug. She fell to the floor with a thud, head in hands, she mumbled a string of curse words before the first tear sprang from under her dark lashes.

The carpet felt damp and rough as she clawed at it, staggering to her feet. Still slightly nauseous after the news she trudged to the kitchen. Ham, ham would help settle her stomach. (ueah I know what your thinking, food? At this time?Well that's the Sam Puckett logic for you)

The kitchen lights burnt her eyes as she shuffled in, blinding her blue orbs of any sense of direction. Reaching a steady hand out infront of her, she located the fridge, with a quick tug of the cold metal handle she was in. Unfortunately, just as her eyes chose to adjust, so did her stomach. "fuck" she cursed, rushing to the sink.


End file.
